"i guess i should stop looking out for you, like i always do. when will you start looking out for me, too?" - joy again

the room is so quiet, i can hear lydia's breathing, soft and steady. she looks peaceful, asleep like this, even with the bruises on her face. i don't think i've ever seen her this still before. i sit in this old chair, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them, my sweater hanging loose around me, hiding what's left of my arm. it still doesn't feel real, like it's someone else's arm that's missing, not mine. i can't even bring myself to look at it.

but that's not what's eating at me. it's not just my arm. it's everything. all of it. the constant fighting, the loss after loss, and now, lydia. she's been through so much, and she's just a kid. i can see it on her face, even when she's asleep. that same look i used to have—like there's nothing left but the fight to survive.

i don't even realize i'm crying until the tears start falling, hot and fast. i try to keep it quiet, wiping my face with my sleeve, but it's like once i start, i can't stop. i've been holding it in for so long, trying to be strong for everyone, for her, for daryl, for... hell, i don't even know anymore. but now, in this quiet moment, i can't keep it together.

i think about my arm again, about how it's gone, and it hits me like a punch to the gut. i'll never get it back. i'll never hold anything the same way again, fight the same, or do anything the same. but i can't focus on that. lydia needs me. she needs someone to look out for her, and i can't fall apart now. not when she's depending on me.

i look at her, at how small she seems under the blankets. she reminds me of charlie. i can't even think about her without my chest tightening, like i'm suffocating under the weight of it. i squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push the memories away, but they're always there, just under the surface.

"i'm still here," i whisper, more to myself than to her. "i'm still here." but i don't know if that's a good thing or not. i feel like i'm barely holding on, like at any moment i could just let go, and maybe that wouldn't be so bad. but lydia stirs, just a little, and i stop. i take a deep breath, wiping my face again, trying to pull myself back together. she needs me more than i need to fall apart right now. i'll deal with all this later, when she's safe, when we're both safe—if that ever happens.

i sit there, staring at lydia as she sleeps. her face is soft and peaceful like none of this world has touched her tonight. but my mind is racing, my chest heavy with everything that's happened. i should feel something else—anger, maybe, or relief—but all i think is empty. like the numbness in my arm has spread everywhere else.

every time my eyes drift down, i remember. the pain, the blood, the way siddiq worked so hard to save what he could. the quiet is too loud in this room. every breath i take feels like it's dragging me deeper into the weight of everything i've lost.  i feel like i've failed. failed carl, failed charlie. i feel like i can't do anything right anymore. 

i glance over at lydia again. she's been through hell, too. worse than most of us. she doesn't deserve any of this. i sit there for hours, my eyes never leaving her. the tears eventually stop, but the ache stays. and even though the night drags on, sleep doesn't come for me. i just sit there, keeping watch, because that's all i can do. 

a soft knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. daryl steps in quietly, his footsteps almost silent on the wooden floor. he looks at me, then at lydia, still fast asleep, and i can tell by the way he stands there that he knows. he always knows. "how's she doin'?" he asks, his voice low and rough like gravel. "she's fine," i whisper, my voice hoarse from holding back everything. "she just needed rest."

daryl nods, stepping closer to where i'm sitting, his eyes landing on my arm. i pull the sleeve of my sweater down instinctively, hiding it, but i know he's already seen. he doesn't say anything about it. "you need to rest too." he says after a beat, his voice softer now like he's afraid i'll break if he pushes too hard.

"i'm fine." i lie, not even bothering to look up at him. i can feel the weight of his stare, the concern etched in his silence. "you ain't fine," daryl says quietly, stepping closer. "you ain't gotta do this alone, isa." i shake my head, staring down at lydia, feeling the guilt of not being strong enough claw at me. "she needs me," i whisper, my voice barely holding together. "she needs me more."

daryl crouches down next to me, his hand resting on my knee for a moment before he pulls it away, unsure. "we all need ya. but you can't help her if you don't take care of yourself." i don't answer. i can't. the lump in my throat's too big, and i'm scared if i open my mouth, i'll lose it completely. he doesn't push, doesn't say anything else. just stands up and glances back at lydia before turning toward the door. "i'll be downstairs if you need me." he mutters, and with that, he slips out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. the room feels colder once he's gone. 

i don't remember falling asleep, but when i wake up, the sun's streaming through the window. it takes a second for my mind to catch up, but then i notice it—the bed next to me is empty. lydia's gone. panic hits me hard, and i jump up, my heart racing.  i start tearing through the house, checking every room, every corner. she's nowhere. my mind flashes back to the snowy lake, to the way she stood out there with that walker like she didn't care if it got her. my stomach twists, and i feel sick.

"lydia?" i call out, my voice cracking as i rush down the stairs. no answer. i search the front of the house, the back. nothing. i stop at the front door, catching my breath, trying not to let the worst thoughts creep in. then, i hear it—quiet voices coming from the kitchen. i head in that direction, and as i round the corner, i freeze. there she is, sitting at the counter, a small smile on her face as she eats some eggs. daryl's standing at the stove, flipping pancakes, looking like he's concentrating way too hard.

relief floods through me so fast i nearly collapse, but instead, i lean against the doorway, watching them for a second. daryl tries to flip another pancake, but it lands crooked in the pan, half-folded. i can't help it, i chuckle. "didn't know you were a chef." i say, walking over to the counter and sitting down next to lydia.

daryl glances over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "never said i was." he grumbles, though i can tell he's trying not to smirk. i look at lydia, who's quietly eating, the smile still faint on her lips. it's not much, but it's something. she seems calmer now, more at ease. "you want some pancakes?" daryl asks, holding up the spatula. i glance at the misshapen pile on the plate and grin. "yeah, sure. why not."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

i am terrible at uploading, here is a little filler chapter, i have 0 motivation right now with the business of school...also i got a puppy! so weird having the first pet that i own in my apartment, any tips on training would be highly appreciated LOL.